


The Oldavé Incident

by Serenitys_Lady



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Banter, Conventions, F/M, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-21
Updated: 2017-07-21
Packaged: 2018-12-05 02:16:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11568234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Serenitys_Lady/pseuds/Serenitys_Lady
Summary: The Doctor and Donna attend an intergalactic conference





	1. The Preliminaries

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own anything or anyone. The Doctor and Donna kindly allow me to borrow their likeness for a time.
> 
> A/N: The concept of “Aprixian Brandy” belongs to an author on Live Journal. She has graciously allowed me to use it for my little fic, and I thank her profusely!

**_Chapter 1 – The Preliminaries_ **

 

“DOOOOOOONNNNNNNNAAAAA!!!!” the Doctor called out, for the third time in as many minutes.  He was pacing back and forth in the control room, anxious and agitated.  “Come on,” he called again.  “We’re going to be late for Registration!  They always have nibbles at Registration.”

“That stomach of yours is going to be the death of me,” Donna’s voice replied from down the hallway.

“But think of it, Donna.   _Breakfast_  nibbles.  I’ve never had breakfast nibbles!  Ooo, little quiches.  Mini bagels with crème cheese and salmon.  Maybe,” his eyes grew wide, “they’ll have tiny little plates of bangers and mash!”  He was almost drooling.

Just as he was about to shout again, Donna sauntered into the control room, wheeling a medium-sized suitcase with one hand and carrying a satchel with the other.  The Doctor stopped his pacing and stared at her.

“Donna,” he groaned.  “We’re only going to be gone for five days,  Do you  _really_ need two suitcases?”  He rolled his eyes at the thought.

She glared at him a moment, weighing her words carefully.  She set the wheeled case upright and walked slowly over to him.  “ _I_  only have one, Time Boy.  This one’s yours,” she stated as she dropped the satchel at his feet.

He stared at her, a touch confused.  “Mine?” he asked.  “I didn’t pack a bag.”

“Oh, I am well aware of that,” she replied.  “But you did say that this conference centre had a spa, so I figured you would at least need your swimming trunks.”

“What?!” the Doctor said.

“And, now I know you never change that suit.  No.  Wait,” Donna stopped him before he could reply.  “You’re right; you sometimes wear the brown one.  Regardless,” she continued, “it’s like you said, five days.  Surely you’re gonna need a couple of changes of knickers, at least.”

The Doctor began to sputter, “W...w…what?”  A slow crimson flush crept up his neck and cheeks.  “WHAT!?!” he bellowed.  “You went in my room?!” he asked, shocked.  The full implication of her words hit him, and he could barely speak.  “You…you…you got into my underpants?!?!”

She smirked at him and, when he realized what he had inadvertently said, his face turned a delightful shade of puce.  She watched for a few seconds before deciding to ease his discomfort.  Smacking him lightly on the arm, she said, “Breathe, Doctor.  I’m just taking the mick out of you.  I didn’t pack your bag.   _She_  did.”  She nodded her head toward the TARDIS’ wall.

The Doctor stood still, willed his respiratory bypass to kick in, and glared at his companion.  Donna held her ground, and his gaze.  They continued this stare-down for some time, until he finally started to see the humour in the situation, and he smiled begrudgingly.  He picked up the satchel and, looking up at the ceiling, said to his ship, “I’ll deal with you later, young lady!”  The TARDIS chortled in response.

Turning back to Donna, he tried to put on his stern, ‘brooking no nonsense’ look, and said, “Think that was funny, did you?”

She could tell he was having a hard time controlling his facial expression and decided to push it one last step.  “Now, Doctor,” she said sweetly.  “You know I would never violate your privacy like that.”  She grabbed the handle of her suitcase and walked toward the doors.  “Although, I have to say.  I  _am_  curious.”

“Curious?” he asked.

“Yeah.  You can tell me.  Boxers or briefs?”  She reached for the satchel.

He batted her hand away.  “None of your business!” he replied, with a grin.  She was gratified to see a slight touch of pink staining his cheeks.  Offering her his arm, he stated, “Now, come on.  Nibbles await.   _Allons-y_!”

Donna laughed and put her arm through his and replied, “ _Molto bene_!”

An hour later, the two of them stood in the spacious lobby of the Ganymedean Galactic Conference and Event Centre.  Donna sipped from a flute of Buck’s Fizz, looking around at the myriad of alien species milling about.  Most of them were vaguely humanoid, but there were a few exotic types that she had to ask the Doctor to explain.

“Oh,” he began, pointing with one hand while balancing a rather full plate in the other, “the ones in the tanks are a piscine race from a water planet out near the Pleiades.  Planet entirely under water.  Highly intelligent, but can’t communicate very well.  No thumbs,” he said, demonstrating with his own, “no written language.”

“And those?” Donna asked, pointing out a rather large creature that looked like a cross between a human and a rhinoceros.  “Is it wearing body armour?”

Looking over, the Doctor frowned.  “Judoon.  Mercenary police.”  He popped a crispy bit of deep fried pastry into his mouth and chewed.  “What are Judoon doing at an intergalactic conference on technology and multi-species cooperation?”

Donna looked at him and smiled.  “For that matter, what are  _we_  doing here?  I would have thought you knew all this stuff.”

“Oh, I don’t know everything.  Well, I know a lot of things.  Well,” he said, drawing out the word, “I know  _most_  things.”  He picked up another item from his plate, stared at it intently, shrugged, and bit down.  “Sometimes, I just need to talk with people who speak the same language, share the same point of reference.”

He continued to nibble, blissfully unaware of the unintentional insult contained in his words.  Unfortunately, Donna caught it quite clearly.  She tried to shrug it off, as the Doctor being the Doctor, but it had hurt.  She left his side, pretending to need a refill on her drink.  When he realized, a few minutes later, that she was no longer listening to him ramble on, he looked around, concerned.  Finally spotting her standing by herself near a scale model of the conference centre, he put down his almost empty plate and walked over to her.

“Donna?” he asked, putting his hand on her arm to get her attention.  “Is there something wrong?  Why did you walk away like that?”

She gave him a weak smile and said, “I’m alright.  Just needed a refresher,” and showed him her glass.

The Doctor did not buy that excuse for a moment.  He took the drink from her and handed it to a passing waiter.  Taking her hand, he looked down at her and said, with all seriousness, “What did I do?  Please tell me.”

She tried to pull away, but he held on to her hand and made her face him.  Finally, knowing he wouldn’t let it be, she shrugged and said, “I just never thought about how hard it is for you, travelling with us small brained, single hearted humans, is all.”

At first he was confused, but then the realization hit him and he grimaced.  He knew he had hurt her, and that pained him.  “Oh, Donna.  I am such an idiot.  That’s not what I meant at all!  You are brilliant, you are.  You see things in people and situations that go right over my big Time Lord head.  And that single human heart of yours is as big as a galaxy!” He took her other hand and pressed them both against his hearts.  “You keep me grounded.  You make sure I know when I’m about to do something really stupid.  I don’t know what I’d do without you.”  He smiled and said with determination, “And I have no intention of ever finding out!”  He brought her hands up to his lips and kissed her knuckles lightly.

Pulling her back into the centre of the room, he exclaimed, “Now, come on.  They’re about to start the opening remarks.  I want you with me.”

Donna laughed out loud as they headed toward the auditorium.  The Doctor found them two seats in the middle of one of the last rows.  He refused to relinquish her hand as the speaker began his presentation, welcoming the participants.  She let his voice roll over her, not really listening, but thinking over what the Doctor had said.  She was touched but, as usual, didn’t really believe that she was that important.  She was secretly pleased by his praise, nonetheless.

The rest of the day passed slowly for her.  The Doctor was determined not to let her out of his sight, and dragged her from lecture to workshop to demonstration.  She was happy to go, seeing the immense pleasure he was getting out of it all.  He did so much for her, so it was the least she could do.  She actually found one lecture on translation techniques fairly interesting and made a mental note to talk to the TARDIS about learning some Gallifreyan.

After the last session, they retrieved their luggage and keys from the front desk, and were shown to their lodgings.  Donna was surprised when the bellman (bell- _person_? - She wasn’t exactly sure what species, let alone gender, it was) led them out of the hotel proper and to a wooded area behind the main building where there were a number of small cabins scattered throughout the grounds.  They were shown to a much larger one in a more secluded area.

Donna threw the Doctor a questioning look, as he gave the bellman a tip and shut the door.  They were standing in the lounge of the cabin.  To the right were three doors, one to each of two bedrooms and one to the connecting bath.  To the left was a small dining area and kitchenette, which were separated by a serving counter.  She looked around the room, her eyes wide.  Turning back to him, she said, “This is lovely.  But I thought we’d have rooms in the hotel.”

He gave her a lopsided smile and said, “I thought you might be more comfortable away from the general population.  Having to interact with too many new species all at once can be a bit stressful.  So I asked for one of the VIP accommodations.”

“VIP?” she smirked.  “And just how did you convince them of that?”

He sniffed.  “Well, I  _might_  have given them the impression that I had some connection to the Shadow Proclamation.”

“You cheeky thing!” she chuckled.  “But, won’t that get you into trouble with them, this ‘Shadow Proclamation’?”

“Naw,” he grinned.  “They get that all the time.  As long as I don’t try to negotiation a treaty or anything, they probably won’t even notice ‘Dr. John Smith’.”

“Well, then, I guess I’ll just have to keep an eye on you.  Keep you out of trouble.”  She thought she heard him mutter under his breath ‘Good luck with that.’  She turned toward the bedrooms and said, “I’m gonna go have a wash.  Is there anything to eat in the kitchen, or do we have to go out?

The Doctor began to open cupboards and poke around inside.  Donna, meanwhile, opened the left door and entered a rather spacious bedroom, complete with sitting area and walk-in wardrobe.  She set down her suitcase and walked into the bathroom.

She stood and stared in amazement.  The en-suite was huge, and opened into either bedroom by means of double locking doors.  It was equipped with not only a large footed bath tub, but a separate shower stall with multiple shower heads.  There was a makeup table and mirror, and two hand basins.  The lighting fixtures gave off a soft amber glow, which was very flattering to Donna’s ginger colouring.  She washed quickly and exited the bathroom through the door that opened into the lounge.

“You’ve got to see the loo!” she exclaimed.  “It’s bigger than my first flat!”  She looked over at the Doctor, who had an assortment of items lined up on the counter.  He appeared to be waiting for her, and stood there grinning.  “What’s all this?” she asked, walking over to him.

“Our own private stash of nibbles!  Isn’t it fantastic?!”  He was like a child on Christmas morning, grabbing her hand and showing her all the treats he had found in the cupboards and fridge.  “Look, look!” he said gleefully.  “Four different kinds of cheese.  This one’s from Aretemis VII, I think.  They’re famous for their goats.  Well, goat-like mammals.  And these are from the olive groves of Parnassus.”

“There’s a planet called Parnassus?” she asked, skeptically.

“No.  Well, I don’t think so.  Hmm,” he pondered.  “Nope, not that I know of.   _These_  are from Mount Parnassus.  That’s in Greece.  On Earth.  You remember, Earth, right?” he smirked, and received a sharp smack on the arm for his trouble.  He continued to point out the origins of each delicacy and they snacked and chatted about nothing really important.

Donna went to the fridge to get some fruit juice the Doctor had mentioned.  While searching for a glass, she came upon a rather dusty, ornate, dark green glass decanter.  She lifted it out of the cupboard and asked, “Oi!  Spaceman.  What’s this?”

The Doctor took the decanter from her hand and, removing the stopper, first sniffed deeply, and then dipped his finger into the amber liquid contained inside.  Touching his fingertip to his tongue, he licked it and proceeded to analyse the taste.  His eyes widened and he quickly re-sealed the bottle. 

“Well?” she asked.  “Is it drinkable?”

He shook his head slowly.  “Aprixian brandy,” he answered simply.

“Holding out on me, eh?”  She reached for the decanter.

He snatched it out of her hand and put it back on a high shelf.  “Donna, listen to me.  That stuff is bad news.”  He rubbed the back of his neck.  “It’s got a tremendously high alcohol content, and is absorbed  _very_  slowly in the bloodstream.  Time Lords have a remarkable ability to assimilate alcohol, superior physiology and all that.  We simply can’t get drunk, but even I would be wary of imbibing that stuff.  I can’t even imagine what it would do to a human.”

Donna narrowed her eyes and glared at him.  “Are you having me on?  Are you serious, or is this just another knock on us inferior beings?”  Looking him in the eye, she recognized the gravity of his expression and backed down immediately.  “Okay.  Got it.  No Aprixian brandy.  Pity,” she said wistfully, under her breath.  “It might have been fun.”

After munching to their hearts’ content, Donna began to tidy the kitchen, and was pleasantly surprised when the Doctor grabbed a tea towel and helped with the washing up.  ‘He’s being such a dear,’ she thought suspiciously.  ‘I wonder what he wants?’  She found out in short order when he began to detail for her his plans for Day Two of the conference.  Laughing silently, she decided to indulge him for one more day, and, wishing him good night, retired to her room.


	2. The Conference

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor and Donna’s further conference adventures

**_Chapter 2 – The Conference_ **

 

The following day proceeded in much the same way as the day before, with Donna following the Doctor around the conference centre.  She did her best to appear interested and enthusiastic, for his sake.  But by the end of the afternoon, she was mentally exhausted.  So, as they sat at an early dinner in the small cafe in the hotel, she came to a very difficult decision.

“So, tomorrow,” the Doctor began, putting on his glasses and pulling out the next day’s schedule of sessions, “I thought we’d start with the presentation on multi-phase plasmatic thermocoupler mechanics and interlocutionary by-products.”  He grinned up at her.

She took a bite of her crème brûlée (at least she  _thought_  it was crème brûlée - she wasn’t exactly sure but really didn’t think she wanted to know if it wasn’t).  “Right,” she said.  “About that.  I was thinking of maybe having a spa day tomorrow.”

He looked over at her, confused.  “A spa day?”

“Yeah, you know.  Mani-pedi.  Facial.  Maybe a massage.”  She took another spoonful of her dessert.

“But you’ll miss the panel on dual-gravitational burnouts and environmental impact theory!” he exclaimed, brandishing a page from the schedule.

“I know, and I’ll be devastated,” she replied sarcastically, “but they have mineral mud baths!”  She waved her own pamphlet in his direction.  “Guaranteed to counter the effects of gravity on, er, um, muscle tissue.”

The Doctor took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose.  Without raising his head, he said softly, “You’d rather get covered in mud than spend time with me.”

Donna immediately reached over and took his hand.  “Oh, Doctor!  Of course not.”  She could tell he was genuinely hurt by her decision.  “I’ve loved hanging about with you these past two days.  I’ve gotten a better perspective on what you deal with and maybe even learned a thing or two that might be helpful sometime.  But honestly.  Don’t you think you would enjoy it just a tiny bit better if you didn’t have to spend so much of your time explaining things to me?”

He rubbed the back of her hand thoughtfully.  “Maybe you’re right.  It might be a little easier to concentrate on the finer points.”  He stopped and looked up at her.  “I  _will_  miss having you there, of course,” he added quickly.

She smiled and squeezed his hand.  “Of course.  And I’ll miss you too.  But, you can take notes and teach me all about it later.  You know how you love to do that.”  He smiled and nodded.  “How about I meet you in the afternoon?  We can walk through the vendor exhibit halls, and you can explain all the toys to me to your hearts’ content!”

He grinned broadly at this idea.  “ _Belissimo_!”

The next day, as Donna was primped, pampered and perfumed, the Doctor flitted from lecture to lecture, jotting down copious notes and having the time of his life.  He got into a serious discussion with a Mordaani scientist who was demonstrating a Klipplingshöner device.  He was thankful Donna had talked him into leaving his sonic screwdriver in the cabin; he had been sorely tempted to ‘fix’ the calibration problem, rather than point out ‘possible’ design flaws and debate the merits of various solutions.

Later in the afternoon, Donna crossed the conference centre lobby, heading to where she had agreed to meet the Doctor.  She felt relaxed and refreshed, the spa treatments having done more to raise her spirits than she had imagined.  She was grateful for her alone time, but she realised she was looking forward to seeing him again, that she had actually missed listening to the little git prattle on about things. 

At the same time, the Doctor waited patiently (well, as patiently as he ever did, that is) for his companion to meet him at the agreed upon time.  He stood, shifting from one foot to the other, in front of the entrance to the main exhibit hall.  He had so much he wanted to tell her.  He truly had missed having her with him, missed sharing a laugh about the absurdity of this presenter’s hypothesis or that lecturer’s conclusions, or simply holding her hand.

The degree to which he required her presence caught him quite unawares.  A personable companion had always made the travelling that much more exciting and enjoyable.  But he was beginning to suspect it had gone beyond companionship.  How far, he wasn’t prepared, at this moment, to analyse further.

He pulled out the conference schedule and donned his glasses, perusing his choices for the next day’s sessions. He became quickly bored and shoved both back into his pocket, and began scanning the lobby again.  He finally caught sight of Donna as she made her way toward him.  She was wearing a simple below-the-knee sundress in shades of purple and blue, and sandals, which showed off her lavender-painted toes.  He found the sight of them strangely appealing.  ‘Rassilon, but she’s lovely,’ he thought.  He waited for her, striking a casual stance but grinning widely as she approached.

Looking around, Donna spied the Doctor leaning against the wall of the exhibit hall, and walked over to him.  Noticing his silly expression, she said as she approached him, “Oi!  Spaceman!”

“Oi!  Earthgirl!” he responded, and drew her into a tight hug.

Pulling away slightly, she asked, “What was that for?”

“Just pleased to see you, is all,” he replied.  “I missed you.  Got loads to tell you.”  He patted his coat pocket.  “I took lots of notes!” he said proudly.  Putting out his arm, he continued, “Shall we go see what treasures can be found, m’lady?”

Donna snickered and said, “You silly prawn.  I missed you too.”  She took his arm.  “ _Allons-y_!” she cried, before he had the chance.

The Doctor laughed, and they walked, arm in arm, into the exhibit hall.  As they entered, he said, almost offhandedly, “You look beautiful, by the way.”  Without giving her a chance to react, he dragged her over to a booth with a variety of mechanical devices.  “Oh!” he exclaimed.  “Tectonic plate regulators!  I haven’t seen these in years!”  And with that, they were off.

The Doctor led Donna on a merry chase through the vendor stalls and booths, stopping here and there to exclaim, argue, laugh at and haggle for the various items on display and for sale, picking up a few bits of machinery and electronic components.  She scoffed at a particularly random devise.  “Oh, please!  When exactly do you anticipate needing a ‘variable speed microfilament displacement regulator’?”

“I’ll have you know, those are extremely rare in this part of the galaxy.  We’re lucky to find one!”

“Yeah,” she retorted.  “That’s why he’s got seven more on the shelf behind him.”

The Doctor looked at the vendor, who just shrugged, and he wisely dropped this topic of conversation (and the device).

They continued on their way and spent another hour wandering around, just talking and laughing.  He did manage to finally convince her to let him buy an intricately woven silver bracelet studded with depleted dilithium crystals that had been polished until they glowed like rare opals.  She protested that it was too much, but he just told her to hush, paid the vendor with actual currency (not psychic paper), and affixed it to her wrist.  He tried to purchase the matching pendant, but she smacked him in the arm, and he relented.

That night, they returned to their cabin after dinner, and the Doctor spread his purchases out over the dining table, examining each one closely.  Donna was curled up in an armchair with a book.  As he muttered softly, she watched him for a while, smiling to herself.  He was such a child.  She wondered, in the lifespan of the Time Lords, where exactly he fell.  Nine hundred years seemed like an awfully long time, but for all she knew, he could be, relatively speaking, a teenager!  That  _would_  explain a lot.

He looked up at that precise moment and caught her smiling.  He raised one eyebrow and she blushed slightly in return.  They both laughed and went back to what they were doing, at ease in the companionable silence.  Finally, Donna closed her book and stood up.

“Well, Time Boy.  I’m off to bed,” she declared.  “I know you probably won’t sleep, but please.  Put all that stuff away before morning, will ya?  I plan on eating breakfast at that table.”

He got up and walked over to her.  Placing his hand over his hearts, he stated solemnly, “I promise.  Say.  What do you want to do tomorrow?”

Donna looked at him, a little wary.  She put her hand on his arm and began, slowly, “Doctor, …”

He took her hand in his and smiled.  “Donna,” he said, sweetly.  “It’s okay if you don’t want to tag around with me again.  Honest.”  However, he was secretly hoping she would.

“Really?” she asked.  “You really wouldn’t mind?”  She reached back and picked up her book, extracting a piece of paper.  “I picked this up at the exhibits.  There’s a street festival not too far from the hotel tomorrow.  You know, arts and crafts, music, like that.  I thought I’d walk down and check it out.”

The Doctor saw the twinkle in her eyes and heard the excitement in her voice, and he realized he couldn’t refuse her.  “Of course, I don’t mind.  It’s just a lot of boring lectures.  Have fun.  You deserve it.”  He kissed her hand and said, “I’ll see you before you leave.  Sweet dreams, Donna.” 

 


	3. The Festival

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Donna's adventure, and a new development

The following morning, Donna awoke to find that the Doctor was true to his word.  The dining table was not only cleared of his “toys”, but it was set with a linen cloth, plates, glasses and flatware.  There was an assortment of pastries, fruit, and cereals, and she could smell coffee brewing.  He stood by the table, waiting for her.

“What’s all this?” she asked, as she walked over to the kitchen area, dropping her hat and handbag on the settee as she went by.

He grinned at her.  “I had the hotel send over a ‘continental breakfast’.  But I made the coffee myself!”  He pulled out her chair for her.

She laughed, seeing how proud of himself he was.  “Thank you, Doctor.  That was very thoughtful of you.”  She sat down and picked up a cheese-filled danish drizzled with thick sweet icing.  He brought over two steaming cups and placed one in front of her.  She tried not to show it, but she was a little apprehensive about drinking the coffee.  The Doctor had proven himself positively useless in the kitchen on the TARDIS, incapable of anything more complicated than tea and toast.  So she was pleasantly surprised at the delightful taste of the beverage, and she complimented him on it.  He beamed back at her. 

“It’s this machine!” he exclaimed, grabbing a banana.  “Fantastic thing.  You don’t have to think about it.  Just pop in a little packet and it does it all by itself.  Brilliant!”  He peeled the banana and bit down.  “We should really get one for the TARDIS,” he said thoughtfully.

After a very pleasant breakfast, Donna got up to get her things.  The Doctor stood by the front door, hand in his pockets and a wistful look on his face.  “So, you’re going to festival?” he asked expectantly.

She glanced over at him, and the realization dawned that the elaborate meal was his attempt at changing her mind about her plans for the day.  She knew he really wanted her to stay with him, but she just couldn’t bear sitting in another stuffy meeting room with a variety of alien species, many of whom had no concept of personal hygiene (or personal space), listening to someone ramble on in what she sometimes suspected was total gibberish.

She didn’t want to hurt his feelings, but she also didn’t want him to think he could influence her decisions that easily.  Pretending she hadn’t heard the yearning tone of his question, she replied cheerfully, “Oh, yes.  It looks to be quite fun.  I’ll grab lunch there.  We can meet back here for dinner.”  She looked at him and smiled.  “Sound good to you?”

The Doctor tried to hide his disappointment behind a chipper attitude.  “Sounds brilliant!” he enthused.  “Well, have a great day,” he said to her, opening the front door.  “But be careful, Donna.”

“I will, Spaceman,” she responded, kissing him on the cheek as she left.

Donna strolled past the hotel and into the neighbouring village.  It was a pleasant walk and she was glad for the exercise.  The conference had so far entailed a lot of sitting around, and she had become used to more strenuous activity since joining the Doctor.  The day promised to be comfortably warm, with the dual suns rising several hours apart, and she was glad she thought to bring a hat.

The festival was set up along several blocks of streets, divided into sections by type of custom.  There were vendors selling every homemade craft one could think of.  The Doctor had given her a wallet full of the local currency, but she was naturally frugal, so she looked through each offering with great care.  She found a small stand where a young local woman (who was surprisingly humanoid in appearance) displayed hand-sewn and -painted men’s ties, of all things.  Donna picked out two that she thought he would like and had them wrapped in blue tissue paper.  She decided she needed to purchase a tote to carry her treasures.

She spent the morning wandering through the craft stalls chatting with the local artisans and vendors, and buying a few more things for herself and the Doctor.  She even found a scarf of a chiffon-like fabric that she knew her mother would die for.  She had just purchased a small but elaborate brass astrolabe to bring home to her grandfather Wilf when a loud blast from what sounded like a trumpet blared in the distance.

Moving in that direction, she came upon an open-air amphitheatre, with rows of raised seats in a semi-circle facing a stage at the centre.  The playbill advertised a performance of something called  _Ď’ian’tho_ _²_ _Vrŏ’el’ia_.  Thinking it might be a pleasant way to spend an afternoon, she paid the admission fee and was shown to her seat.  Looking over the programme, it occurred to her that she hadn’t had any difficulty understanding anyone or anything the entire time she had been at the festival.  She was surprised to realize that the TARDIS’ translation circuit was effective this far from the ship, or out of the proximity of the Doctor himself.  She sent a mental ‘thank you’ to her, and was startled when she received a faint ‘you’re welcome’ in response!

She bought a beverage and what looked like a bag of chips, and settled in to watch the performance.  She was amazed at how many aspects it had in common with William Shakespeare’s tragic  _Romeo & Juliet_.  Donna watched two young lovers, the children of the leaders from warring planets and species, meet at a festival and fall in love.  Knowing that they would never be allowed to be together as long as the war rages, they conspire with the interplanetary negotiator and plan to wed, hoping that their marriage would forge a bond between the two factions and bring about peace.  As with all great tragedy, the lovers are thwarted, many innocents die, and only after great sorrow and loss do the governments put aside their differences, and peace, tainted by grief, is achieved.

While Donna watched the play unfold so beautifully and familiarly, she wished the Doctor were with her, to share the experience and marvel at how such divergent species and timelines could have created practically a mirror image of the classic tale of star-crossed lovers.  She regretted that she had not tried to talk him into accompanying her; she suspected he would have if she had asked.  Most of all, she found that she missed the sound of his voice and the feeling of his hand in hers.

As she followed the crowd out of the amphitheatre at the conclusion of the performance, she decided to return to the conference centre and see if she could find the Doctor.  Trying to avoid the crush of people, she turned down a side aisle and exited onto a street she did not recognize.  She walked for quite a ways, and was startled to find herself in what appeared to be a farmers’ market. 

She suddenly had a brilliant idea.  Walking through the stalls of produce, fruits and vegetables, and all manner of other unfamiliar foodstuffs, Donna spoke with vendors and farmers, and, at the end of an hour, was loaded down with what she hoped would be the makings of the Doctor’s favourite meal.  She hurried back to the cabin, excited to begin her preparations.

After several calls to the concierge and the hotel kitchen staff, she had everything she needed.  She spent the next several hours chopping, mixing, sautéing and baking.  She had just finished washing up the cooking dishes she had borrowed from the hotel, when the front door opened and the Doctor entered, calling out as he did so, “Donna?  I’m back!”

Donna walked into the lounge, wiping her hands on a tea towel.  The Doctor smiled widely when he saw her and enveloped her in a hug.  “What is that amazing smell?!” he asked, pulling away slightly.

She smiled shyly and said, “You’ve been so understanding with me, that I thought I’d give you a treat.”  She told him about finding the farmers’ market.

He stood in middle of the room and sniffed.  His eyes narrowed and he squinted as he concentrated.  “Hmm.  Animal protein of some kind.”  (sniff)  “Tubers”  (sniff, sniff)  “One of the cheeses from the other night.”  His eyes grew wide and he turned to her.  “Is that shepherd’s pie?  I  _love_  shepherd’s pie, especially  **your** shepherd’s pie!”  He grabbed her and twirled her around in his excitement.  “Thank you, so much.  This is brilliant!”

He stopped and took another deep breath, still holding her.  “No,” he said incredulously.  “It’s not.  Is it?”  He grinned broadly.  “You made banana pudding!”  He kissed the top of her head in his enthusiasm.  “You spoil me, Donna Noble.  You are far too good for the likes of me!”

Donna was glad he couldn’t see her face.  She blushed furiously as his words of praise touched her on a deeper level than she knew he would be comfortable with.  Laughing to cover her nervousness, she disengaged herself and said, “I’m going to wash up.  Be a dear and set the table.  I won’t be but a minute.”  And she ran off to splash cold water on her burning cheeks.

When she returned, the table was set and the Doctor was fiddling with small box sitting on the coffee table.  Suddenly, the room was filled with soft music of a kind she had never heard before.  “That’s really lovely,” she said, walking into the kitchen to take their dinner out of the warming oven.  “What is it?”

“Gallifreyan string ensemble,” he replied wistfully.  “I had the TARDIS upload some old digital files I found to my iPod.”

“ _You_ have an iPod?”

“Of course, I do.  I picked one up in New London in the 32nd Century, I think.  iPod Classic.  Generation XY-cubed.  Can’t stand those Nanos.  I keep losing the little buggers.”

She shook her head and sighed.  ‘Boys and their toys,’ she thought.

She set two plates of mixed greens and a cruet of raspberry vinaigrette on the table, and they sat and ate and talked about their day.  Donna described the play and they discussed the similarities and differences, marvelling at the “convergent cultural evolution”, as the Doctor called it, light years away and several ions apart.

In great detail and with much hand waving, he expounded on the lectures he attended and the discussions (read: arguments) he got into with a couple of the presenters.  He was in the middle of his third helping of shepherd’s pie when he suddenly stopped and dropped his fork on his plate.

Donna looked at him and said with a sly grin, “What’s the matter, Time Boy?  Finally reached capacity, eh?”

The Doctor took a deep breath and said, quietly, “Donna, what exactly was in that salad?”

Her brow creased and she answered, “The usual stuff.  Greens.  Some nuts.  Apple slices.  A bit of cheese.  Why?”

He asked again, more urgently, “What greens?  What specifically?”

“I don’t know,” she replied, a little exasperated.  “Romaine, arugula, some radicchio…”

“And oldavé,” he finished for her.

“Yeah, I think that’s what they called it.  I’d never seen it before.  Kinda looked like endive, only dark green.”  She stared at him, confused, and said, “What are you going on about?”

He sighed and asked, “This market.  What did they tell you?”

Donna took immediate offence at his question.  “Oh, don’t use that tone with me, Time Boy,” she said sharply.  “I did check.  I’m not stupid.  I was assured, not only by the farmer but by the hotel’s chefs, that everything was perfectly safe for human consumption.”

There was a long moment of silence, and then the Doctor simply said, “Donna, I’m not human.”

“Well, of course you’re not human, you prawn!” she snapped back.

He sat and waited patiently, his eyes tinged with concern.  She glared at him and, as she was about to make another snarky comment, the full import of his words dawned, and she repeated in a whisper, “You’re not human.”

He shook his head and smiled sadly.  Donna got up from her chair and knelt next to his, grabbing his hand and crying, “Doctor, what is it?  Were they poisonous?  Oh my god!  I’ve poisoned you, haven’t I?!”  Her eyes brimmed with tears.

“Donna,” the Doctor began to say.

“What do we do?  The TARDIS!  Let’s get you back to the TARDIS.   _She’ll_  be able to help, right?” 

She stood up and was heading for her bedroom when the Doctor’s voice stopped her.  “It’s too late for that, Donna.  It’s already in my system.”

Tears rolling down her face, she ran back to him. “What have I done?  I’ve poisoned the last of the Time Lords!  I’ve killed my best friend!”  She threw her arms around his shoulders and wept bitterly.

“WHAT!” the Doctor exclaimed.  Standing up and pulling her with him, he said quickly, “No.  No, Donna.  You haven’t killed anyone.”

She stared at him through her tears.  “What do you mean?  You said it was poisonous to you.”

“Poisonous, yes.  But not fatal.”

“Then what?” she asked, tears still freely flowing.

He brushed her cheek with his thumb.  “I’m just highly allergic to oldavé leaves.”

She immediately smacked him hard on the arm.  “Why’d you go all serious on me then, making me think I’d done you in!?”

He rubbed his arm and moved away from her, into the lounge.  “Because it  _is_  serious.   _Very_  serious.  I am particularly susceptible to the allergic effects of oldavé ingestion.”

Donna sniffed, as her tears subsided.  “So, this has happened before?”

“Only once.  And that was quite enough, thank you.”  He went over to the settee and sat down, patting the cushion next to him, indicating she should join him.  When she was seated, he continued.  “It was back on Gallifrey during my Academy years.  I was pretty stupid back then.”  Donna snorted, thinking ‘Then?’  He gave her a pointed look and continued.  “My best friend dared me to eat one, just one.”

He shuddered, the memory as clear as the day it happened.  “It was horrible.  I vowed never to touch them ever again.  It was also the last time let anyone talk me into anything against my better judgment.”

“So what’s going to happen?”  Donna asked, her voice filled with anxiety.  “Will you be taken ill?  What do I need to be aware of?  Will there be any lingering effects?  What can I do, Doctor?”

The Doctor was touched by her concern.  “Like I said, it’s not fatal.  It’s not even all that harmful.”  He reached back and rubbed the back of his neck.  “It’s just rather uncomfortable and, well, probably  _really_ embarrassing.”

“Embarrassing?”  Donna was confused.  “What?  Are you going to break out into purple hives or something?”

“I wish it were that simple,” he replied, shaking his head and avoiding her eyes.

“Tell me, Doctor.  Please.  What is going to happen to you?!”  She took his face in her hands and forced him to look at her.

Taking her hands in his, he gazed into her eyes, sighed deeply, and said, “What is going to happen, my dear Donna, is this.  Over the next several hours, I am going to get Very ...Very ... Drunk.”


	4. The Incident

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And the games begin!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies (and great thanks) to Freddie Mercury and Queen

“WHAT!” Donna cried.  “What happened to Mr. “Superior-Physiology-Time-Lords-Can’t-Get-Drunk”?!”

The Doctor began, wearily, “It’s not the same.  Different chemical reactions.  When one drinks alcohol, it is released into the bloodstream by way of the stomach.  Oldavé ingestion is a different matter altogether.”  He led her back to the settee and they sat.  Donna could tell she was in for a lecture but knew she needed to hear whatever he had to tell her.

“When oldavé leaves are chewed, they secrete an oil that is absorbed directly into the blood though the mucous membranes of the mouth.  It gets into the system faster than alcohol, but reacts differently.  The process is slower but stronger.  I am already beginning to feel the effects but it will take longer to reach full potency.  The chemicals interact to inhibit my natural enzymes...”

Donna had finally heard enough and clamped her hand over his mouth.  “Doctor!” she insisted.  “I don’t care  _why_  it happens.  I want to know  _what_  will happen and what to do when it does.”

He tried to talk through her hand, so she removed it and he began.  “It’s only happened the once, and it was so long ago.  I’m really not sure what to expect this time.”

“Well, what happened back then?” she asked.

He scratched his head and thought for a minute.  “I remember feeling quite happy for awhile.  Everything was extremely beautiful and exciting and interesting.”  He snickered ruefully.  “It didn’t last long.  There was the inevitable crash.”

“Hangover?” she asked, remembering a night or two of her own.

“No, but there  _was_  a great deal of, um, er, emesis.”

“English, please?”

He coloured slightly and replied, “Forceful expulsion of my stomach contents.”

Donna couldn’t stop herself from giggling.  “Is that what I’ve got to look forward to?  Well,” she snarked, “Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve held some bloke’s head over the toilet after a bender!”

“It’s not funny!” he snapped, blushing furiously.  “I sicked up all over my best pair of boots.  Rather spectacularly.  Several times!  And Koshei just laughed as I...”

“Wait,” she stopped him.  “Koshei?  Who’s that?”

The Doctor’s eyes grew sad and hard at the same time.  “He was a childhood friend, my best friend.  We grew up together, went through the Academy together.”  He stopped and sat in silence, clenching his hands.

Donna could tell this was a very painful subject for him, but she had to ask.  “What happened to him?”

He struggled with himself but, finally, he just said, “We grew apart.  He went in one direction, I went in another.”  He sighed deeply, and she could see a hint of moisture in his eyes.  “He died.”

Donna folded him in a tight hug.  “Oh, Doctor.  I am so sorry.”  They sat that way for a few quiet moments, her giving, and him accepting, comfort. 

Taking a deep breath, he pulled out of her arms gently.  “Donna, you have to do something for me,” he said solemnly.

“Anything, Doctor.  Tell me what you need.”

He ran his hand through his hair.  “I don’t really know how this is going to effect me, so I need you to promise me,  _promise me_ , that you’ll do whatever you can to keep my dignity intact.   _Please_  don’t let me act like a total berk.”

He looked so lost and vulnerable that her heart ached.  Stroking his cheek, she replied, “Of course.  I’ll try my best.”

He covered her hand with his and, turning his head, placed a soft kiss into her palm.  “That’s my girl.  That’s my Donna,” he said.  “Now.  This is going to be a long night, so why don’t we finish our dinner and try to make the best of it?”

“Are you sure?” she asked.

He gave her one of his patented lopsided grins.  “Of course, I’m sure.  There’s a perfectly good banana pudding going to waste!”

Going back to the dining area, the first thing Donna did was to toss the remaining salad in the bin, which garnered a chuckle from the Doctor.  She reheated their dinner, and they continued their discussion about his day.  She noticed that he was becoming more animated in his gestures and, as he spoke, his eyes glinted with an almost manic light.

She assumed the poison was taking effect, and she inwardly braced herself for the worst.  The Doctor was a talker at the best of times, and she suspected that a drunk Doctor would turn nattering into an art form!  But if she could keep him here in the cabin, talking to her, he would be less likely to embarrass himself.  She was determined to make things as easy for him as possible, regardless of the bother.  Putting up with his exuberance was the least she could do, under the circumstances.

She dished out a generous helping of pudding and sat down opposite him at the table.  He practically inhaled the portion, then he smacked his lips and licked his spoon.  “Donna, this is the most marvellous thing I have ever tasted!” he gushed.  “Can I have some more?  Pleeeeeeeease!!”

“Of course,” she replied, handing him the pudding dish.  ‘He’s a child, a bloody child!’ she thought, shaking her head.  She watched him as he devoured the remainder of the pudding and then raised the empty dish to his mouth and began to lick it clean.  She knew he would be appalled at his behaviour if he could see himself, but she couldn’t help but be secretly amused at his antics.  She caught herself being just a little  _too_  interested in the agility of his tongue, and she quickly suppressed those thoughts.

When the Doctor had finished, he put the dish down on the table and gave Donna an expectant look, as if to say, ‘See what a good job I did, Mum?’  Rolling her eyes and shaking her head slightly, she gathered up the dirty plates and cutlery, and deposited them in the sink.  He bounded to his feet and began to help, but, in his enthusiasm, he just kept getting in the way.

Finally, she grabbed him by the hand and led him back into the lounge, seating him on the settee.  “Listen, Doctor,” she began.  “You are very sweet to want to help with the washing up, but I can handle it.  Why don’t you put on some music and relax?”  She handed him the black box which contained his iPod.  He grinned at her, and she left him fiddling with the controls.

Donna returned to the dining table and collected the remainder of the meal, and began filling up the sink with soapy water.  She had always found this task calming, the warmth of the water on her hands and the uncomplicated ritual of washing and rinsing allowing her mind to wander.  The soft music emanating from the lounge was also very soothing.

As she worked, she glanced over her shoulder on occasion to keep an eye on the Doctor.  Once, she caught him furiously conducting an imaginary orchestra, leaning forward with intensity at the softer passages, and waving wildly during the building crescendos.  She had to stifle her laughter, for fear of drawing attention to herself and possibly embarrassing him.  ‘Well, he seems to be a happy drunk,’ she thought.  ‘At least so far.’

A while later, she was just about finished up when she realized that the music had stopped and the cabin was unnaturally quiet.  Walking into the lounge, she looked around, but the room was empty, the Doctor nowhere to be found.  Thinking he might be in the loo, she opened the door a crack and called softly, “Doctor?”  When she got no response, she walked in, but found nothing.

Suddenly, she heard the faintest noise, coming from beyond the double doors that led to the second bedroom.  She opened the first door and could distinctly make out what sounded like a giggle, and then a louder, “Ow!”, coming from the Doctor’s room.  She quickly opened the second door and stopped dead in her tracks.

Sitting cross-legged on the bed was the Doctor, his suit coat in a heap on the floor, his sleeves rolled to the elbows and his shirt un-tucked.  He had been attempting to juggle a banana, a crystal egg-shaped paperweight, and his sonic screwdriver.  He was rubbing his head where the paperweight had struck him when it fell.  There were also minute singe marks on the duvet where the sonic had obviously landed a time or two.

Donna raced over and snatched the sonic up from where it rested on the bed.  The Doctor looked up quickly and said, “Hey!  I was playing with that!” and tried to grab it from her hand.  She immediately pocketed it and slapped his hand away.

“A sonic screwdriver is not a toy,” she said to him sternly, almost adding “young man” to that statement but catching herself.  He gave her a look that was part glower and part pout.  He was still rubbing his head, so she ran her fingers lightly through his hair, trying to assess the damage.  He winced when they skimmed across a spot on the top of his head, and she gently prodded the area, finding the beginning of a lump forming.

She sighed and said, “Oh, what have you done to yourself?”

He ducked his head, and said quietly, “You were taking so long, and I got bored.  So I thought I’d teach myself to juggle.  I’ve always wanted to juggle.”  He touched his head gingerly.  “It looked easy.  But it’s really hard!”

She took his hand and helped him off the bed and back into the lounge.  Folding some ice cubes in a tea towel, she handed it to him.  “You silly prawn,” she declared.  “You learn to juggle using balls filled with beans.   _Soft_  things, not crystal.  And  _certainly_  not with dangerous sonic devices!”

He sat, chastised, holding the towel to his head.  “Oh,” was all he said.

Donna decided that she had to find some way of keeping the Doctor occupied for more than a few minutes.  Suddenly, she remembered one of the items she purchased at the festival.  “Doctor,” she said calmly.  “I’ve got something for you that you’re really going to like.”

He perked up.  “A present?” he asked, excitedly.  “You got me a present?!”

She put her hand up to stop him as he jumped off the settee.  “Sit at the table and I’ll go get it.”  She gestured toward the dining area.  “Go on.  Sit!  And don’t move until I get back.”

Going into her room, she rummaged through the tote bag she had picked up at the festival.  At the bottom, she found what she was looking for, and she made her way back to the lounge.  She snickered when she observed the Doctor, hands folded neatly on the table and sitting up straight, waiting patiently.  Well, almost patiently.  She noticed his right foot tapping eagerly.

Walking over to the table, she placed in front of him a package wrapped in brown paper and tied with string.  He looked up at her expectantly.  She smiled and said, “Well?  Open it.”

He yanked the string off and attacked the paper with abandon.  He reminded her of a child on Christmas morning, unable to wait another second to open his gifts.  Inside he discovered a wooden box with a picture of a nebula on the outside.  He looked over at her, his eyes questioning.  She nodded, and he lifted the lid.

Inside were hundreds of tiny wooden pieces, 1500 to be exact.  He grinned up at her.  “A jigsaw puzzle?  You got me a jigsaw puzzle!”  He clapped his hands in excitement.  “How did you know?  I  _love_  jigsaw puzzles!”  He leapt from his chair and enveloped her in a tight hug.  “You are magnificent, you do know that?”  He kissed her cheek and ran off toward his bedroom, returning seconds later with his “brainy specs” perched on the bridge of his nose.  He grabbed her hand and pulled her over to the table, and sat down.

Picking up the box lid, he peered closely at the image.  “That’s the Eta Carinae Nebula!  Beautiful nebula.  It’s in the Milky Way Galaxy, like Earth.  We should go there.  You’d love it.”  He picked a couple of pieces out of the box and exclaimed, “Hey!  Look!  Thermochromic pigment!  See how the colour changes when you touch it?”  He held a piece out to her, lightly pressing one finger to the surface.  “Hmmm,” he stated.  “That’s going to make this all the more challenging!  I love it!”

The two sat at the table for over an hour, Donna sorting pieces and the Doctor meticulously matching edges.  He would shout “Aha!” when he managed to fit two together.  Donna was amused at his delight and was happy to just watch him manipulate the pieces.  She also disturbingly aware of the nimbleness of his long, thin fingers, and found herself wondering what else other uses they could be put to.

She wasn’t sure exactly where these ideas were coming from, but she knew that he would be confused to learn of her curiosity in the best case, and horrified in the worst.  Seeing that he was totally engrossed in the project, and making remarkable progress, she decided that it would be safe for her to go to her room for a few minutes, to get herself together.  The Doctor was in a vulnerable state right now and she needed to be in control of both herself and the situation.

Ruffling his hair lightly as she walked by, Donna walked into the loo and closed the door.  Staring at her reflection in the mirror, she asked herself, “What is wrong with you?”

She washed her face thoroughly, hoping to symbolically scrub away her unexpected reaction to the Doctor.  She knew he was going to be unhappy about his behaviour as it was, when the poison finally left his system; she wasn’t about to make things any more complicated for him.  He had been clear; he only wanted a mate.  And she was fine with that.  As long as they were together, in whatever form it took, she could be content.

She quickly reapplied her light makeup.  She wasn’t exactly sure why, but it made her feel better.  After picking up her book from her bedside table, she re-entered the lounge.  And her heart sank at the sight that awaited her.

The Doctor was no longer sitting at the table, and the front door of the cabin was wide open.

“Bloody  ** _hell_**!!” she cried.  “Where has the stupid git gone now?!”  Dropping her book on the settee, she sprinted out the door, desperate to find him.  She called his name out softly, not wanting to disturb any of the other guests, hoping he hadn’t gone far.  Walking around the back of the cabin, she noticed a little path and began to walk swiftly down it, praying that this was the direction he took.  After a short while, she came to a small park-like area at the edge of the woods.  In the centre of this clearing was the Doctor, lying on what looked like the duvet from his bed, staring up at the sky.  She stormed over to him and hissed, “Doctor!”

He sat up quickly and turned to face her.  His eyes lit up and he smiled broadly, “Donna!  You got my note!”  He pulled a crumpled piece of paper out of his pocket and handed it to her.  “Come sit with me,” he said, patting the place next to him.

She knelt down on the duvet and took the paper from him.  She just shook her head.  “Spaceman,” she said, “what are you doing out here?”

“Looking at the stars.”  He grabbed her hand and lay down, pulling her down next to him.  “See?  Aren’t they beautiful?”

She couldn’t help but smile.  He was just so innocently charming.  She decided that she was tired of fighting, that may just be easier to go along with his little quirks for a while.  She lay back.  “So,” she asked, “what are we looking at?”

He squeezed her hand and smiled, pleased she was with him.  “Working on the puzzle, which I  _love_ , by the way, seeing that picture of the nebula.  It reminded me that I hadn’t actually looked at the sky in while.”  He lifted the hand that still held hers, and pointed to a large glowing star.  “I  _think_  that one’s a supernova, a sun that is in the process of burning itself out.  Actually, it probably already has; the light is just now reaching us.”

“That’s so sad,” she said.  “To think that an entire sun can die like that and no one even knows about it until after.”

The Doctor’s hearts swelled in his chest, and he raised her hand to his lips.  “You are a right marvel, Ms. Noble.  Who else would feel sorry for a dying star?”

She blushed again at his words.  (She seemed to be doing that a lot.)  They lay together on the duvet gazing at the stars, the Doctor identifying constellations and star clusters.  At one point, he got very quiet.  Donna looked over at him and whispered, “Doctor?”

He shook himself out of his thoughts.  “Sorry,” he replied.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” he responded quietly.  “Gallifrey would have been somewhere in that direction.”  He gestured to the Northeast.

Donna knew vaguely about the Time War and was aware that the loss of his home planet was a continuing source of pain for him.  So she wisely chose to change the subject.  Sitting up, she tugged at him and said, “Come on, Time Boy.  Let’s get back inside.”

“Do we have to?” he pouted.

“Yes,” she replied.  “It’s getting late, and I’m bloody freezing.”

Reluctantly, the Doctor stood up and wrapped the duvet carefully around Donna’s shoulders.  Then, with a sigh, he started walking back with her.

They returned in silence and entered the cabin.  She threw the duvet over the back of the settee and went back to lock the cabin door.  He stood in the middle of the room, looking, she thought, a little lost.  Going over to him, she touched him on the shoulder and asked, “You okay.”

He looked down at her and a small smile crept across this face.  “Oh, I was just thinking.”  He suddenly grabbed her, left hand on her waist, the right clutching her hand.  He started humming and swayed to the music in his head.  She wasn’t sure what was going on, but didn’t want to disturb him, at least not yet, so she let him move her along in his impromptu, somewhat awkward dance.

Soon, the Doctor began to sing softly.  Donna strained to hear and was stunned.

**_Ooh you make me live_ **   
**_Whatever this world can give to me_ **   
**_It's you you're all I see_ **   
**_Ooh you make me live now honey_ **   
**_Ooh you make me live_ **

**_Ooh you're the best friend that I ever had_ **   
**_I've been with you such a long time_ **   
**_You're my sunshine and I want you to know_ **   
**_That my feelings are true  
I_ ** **_really love you_ **   
****_Oh you're my best friend_

Donna tried to hide her shock with her usual defence mechanism of sarcasm.  “Oi!  Time Boy!  What’s that supposed to be?”

He stopped in mid-sway.  “I was singing to you,” he answered, surprised.

“Well, it sounded like someone was strangling a cat!” she retorted.

He dropped her hand and stepped back.  “I’ll have you know that Freddie thought I had a fine voice,” he countered, affronted.

“Freddie?” she asked.  “What?  As in Mercury?  You’re telling me you knew Freddie Mercury.”

“Yeah.  We were great mates.”

“Of course you were,” she replied sarcastically. 

He sniffed.  “Helped him write ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’.  I gave him this part.” and he sang,

**_I see a little silhouetto of a man,_ **   
**_Scaramouche!  Scaramouche!  Will you do the Fandango?!_ **   
**_Thunderbolt and lightning, very, very frightening me!_ **

He grinned broadly.

She smacked him on the arm.  “You’re having me on, aren’t you.”  It was a statement, not a question.

“Cross my hearts,” he answered seriously.  “I sang backup at Wembley!”

**_All I hear is Radio Ga Ga, Radio Goo Goo, Radio Ga Ga_ **

Donna swiftly covered his mouth with her hand.  “Are you going to go through the entire playlist?” she asked .

He moved her hand and replied, with a smirk, “Might do.”

“Well,” she said sternly, “I’m warning you.  You break into a rendition of ‘Fat Bottomed Girls’ and I will smack you into the next galaxy!”

The Doctor stared at her, his eyes wide.  “But Donna,” he responded innocently, “I  ** _love_**  your bottom!”


	5. The Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And so it goes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a little mild swearing. Just a warning.

_'Oh crikey,’_ Donna thought.  _‘What do I do now?’_   Smiling at him, she said, “That’s very sweet of you to say, but you don’t have to...”

“But I  _want_  to,” he replied quickly.  “I really do like your bottom.  It’s a very nice bottom!”

Donna tried to change the subject.  “Doctor, what shall we do tomorrow?”  But he went on as if he hadn’t heard her.

“You know what I especially like?  I like that blue dress you wear.  You know the one?  It’s all clingy and drapey....”

Donna couldn’t listen to any more.  She knew the Doctor was only saying these things because he was under the influence of an alien toxin, that he wasn’t aware of what he was saying, and certainly didn’t mean any of it.  It was like that bloke who told you how beautiful you were after a night at the pub, but never called after he sobered up.  And she now admitted to herself that it hurt to hear him say the things she hoped, deep down, would someday be true.

“Stop!” she shouted.  “Doctor, just stop it!”  She could feel the tears brimming in her eyes, so she turned and walked to the settee, sitting down with her back to him.  He stood where he was, bewildered.

“Donna?” he asked softly.  “You’re upset.  Why are you upset?  Did I do something wrong?”  He walked over and sat down next to her on the settee.  He put his hand on her shoulder.  She resisted his attempt to turn her to face him as she desperately tried to get herself under control.  She took a deep breath and blinked several times to clear the moisture from her eyes.

The Doctor was confused.  He hated to see his best friend upset, and he suspected that he was somehow at fault.  He tugged gently at her shoulder and she finally turned back to him.  He asked again, “What did I do?  I know I’m a thoughtless prat sometimes, but I really don’t know what’s gotten you so upset.  Please tell me so I can never do it again!  Whatever it is, I’m sorry.  I’m really, really sorry.”

He looked so lost, so sincere, that she couldn’t let him suffer.  She forced a smile on her face and answered, “It’s not your fault, Doctor.  You can’t help it.  It’s the toxin.  It’s making you say things you shouldn’t.”

“What shouldn’t I say?  That you’re my best friend?  Because that’s the truth.  You  _are_  my best friend!”

She nodded in agreement.  “That’s right.  We’re mates.  Best mates.”  She was gratified to hear him say those words, but the reality of them, and the limitation they placed on her, was a wound to her heart.

“So what’s the problem?  Saying that you’re attractive?  Why is it wrong to say that?”  He still did not understand why it would upset her.

Donna was having a hard time keeping her pain from showing, and tried to keep her voice calm.  She knew that he would be troubled to learn he had said things he really didn’t mean, and disappointed that she hadn’t stopped him.  So she said again, “We’re mates.  We agreed, remember?  Just mates.”  She hoped he would recall his feelings about this and drop the subject.

The Doctor’s brow creased as he contemplated Donna’s last words.  _‘Mates?’_ he thought.  _‘She thinks we should only be mates.’_

The idea didn’t sit right in his mind, but he knew he was still suffering the effects of the oldavé poisoning.  Maybe they  _were_  just mates, or at least  _she_  wanted to just be mates.  That would certainly explain why his nattering on about her looks would upset her, if she thought he wanted more than she was comfortable giving.  _‘Well,’_ he thought in his toxin-befuddled state, _‘I’d best do some damage control.'_  He put his hand on her shoulder and squeezed lightly.  “You’re right,” he said.  “We are mates.  But.”  He couldn’t help himself; he really couldn’t.  “I still do think you’re beautiful.  I hope it’s okay to tell you that.  We can still be friends and all, right?”

At these words, at the sweet and sincere look in his eyes, the tears that Donna had so far held at bay finally spilled over and ran freely down her cheeks.  The Doctor was horrified at her reaction.  That was the  _last_ thing he wanted to happened.

_‘Oh, bugger!’_ he thought.  “I’m sorry.  I am so sorry.  Please don’t cry.  I didn’t mean to make you cry!” he exclaimed.  He reached over and put his hands on her face, intending to wipe her tears away with his thumbs, but as he did so, his fingertips brushed her temples.  With the oldavé toxin still running rampant in his system, his mental shields were practically non-existent, and his mind immediately joined with hers.

What the Doctor saw in Donna’s mind shocked him.  His breath caught in his throat as he saw, for the first time, the real Donna, the Donna she tried so hard to hide from him.  Her anger and embarrassment at herself for causing him distress.  Her insecurities and self-consciousness.  The memories of past mistreatment by her mother and the men she dated.  Her sense of utter worthlessness.

But what affected him the most, what made his hearts skip a beat, was the depth of her feelings for him, and the conviction that they must never be shown, never be acted upon.  He realized that she truly believed that his hearts belonged to someone else, that he did not and never would want her as anything more than a friend.

He broke off contact with her mind, careful not to let her feel him there, and gently moved his thumbs over her damp cheeks.  He smiled the sweetest smile she had ever seen.  Bending forward, he brushed his lips lightly against hers.  She tried to pull away, but he was having none of that.  Threading his fingers into her glorious ginger hair, he deepened the kiss, trying to contain the joy he felt, not wanting to frighten or upset her, but needing to let her know just how  _wrong_  she was.  About  ** _everything_**!

After a few seconds, the Doctor leaned back, smiled again, and said simply, “Hello, love.”

Donna’s mind was awash with confusing images and feelings.  Her traitorous body and overwrought emotions screamed at her to return his embrace.  But logic and reason, those ever-present staples of her life, reproached her, reminded her that he was under the influence of a powerful toxin that  ** _she_**  was responsible for giving him.  She so wanted to believe that this was all real, but was deathly afraid that it would ruin everything if it turned out to be a drug-induced delusion.  She was still debating herself, when the Doctor, closing his eyes, tilted his head forward to renew the kiss.

And promptly passed out on Donna’s chest.

Donna sat there, unsure of what to do.  She gently shook his shoulder, calling his name softly, but he did not respond.  She tried to get him upright to take him to his room but, for a skinny little streak of nothing, at dead weight, he was bloody heavy.  Finally, she managed to manoeuvre him onto his back on the settee.  She removed his trainers and covered him with the duvet.  He turned onto his side, pulled the covering over his shoulders, and began to snore softly.

She stood there for a few moments, just watching him sleep.  He looked so young and vulnerable when totally relaxed.  Before she retired to her room, she smoothed his hair back from his face, which elicited a small smile.  She knew she shouldn’t, but she bend down and pressed her lips to that smile and whispered, “Good night, Spaceman”  Then she returned to her room and closed the door.

She went about her usual night time routine.  She washed off her now-streaked makeup, cleaned her teeth, and changed into her pyjamas.  She sat on the edge of the bed, brushing her ginger hair absently as her mind roiled.  How was she ever going to face him in the morning?  Her only hope was that he had no memory of what he did or said.  Oh, but that kiss.  She sighed.  To her sorrow, she knew  _she_  would not likely forget it.

Sighing, she put down her brush, crawled into bed, and turned off the light.  Sleep did not come easily.  She dreamed she was being attacked by a giant plant, and called out to the Doctor for help, but he waved her off, saying he was too busy working on his puzzle.  She finally succumbed to mental exhaustion but, even then, she slept fitfully. 

Waking the next morning, Donna prepared herself for the day.  She had no idea what to expect when she left her room so she just braced herself for the worst.  She decided to take her cues from the Doctor.

Leaving the safety of her room, she walked out into the lounge.  The Doctor was in the kitchen, fussing with the coffee machine and, when he saw her, called out cheerfully, “Good morning, Donna!  Did you sleep well?”

“Well enough,” she lied.  “How about you?”

“I guess I never made to my room,” he responded with a lopsided grin, gesturing toward the lounge with the plate of pastries in his hand.  “I have to admit, though.  That settee is rather comfortable.”  He set the plate down on the table and returned to the kitchen for the coffee.  “I hope I wasn’t too much of a bother last night,” he called back over his shoulder.

“No,” she responded quickly.  “No bother at all.”

Donna breathed a small sigh of relief.  Apparently, he remembered nothing of the previous evening’s events.  She knew she would have to, at some time, reveal what exactly went on.  It was the right thing to do.  But she was thankful for the reprieve.  She hoped their friendship would be on much firmer ground by the time that would be necessary, and that he could forgive her.

The Doctor smiled at the woman sitting across from him at the table.  He knew, from his brief intrusion into her mind, that she blamed herself for their little adventure into inebriation and was afraid he would resent her for his “embarrassment” and send her back to Chiswick.  He decided that, by pretending he didn’t remember a thing about last night, she might feel more comfortable about it all. 

Eventually, he would have to tell her that he  _did_  know what happened.  However, he had a plan.  He intended to woo Ms. Donna Noble like she had never been wooed before, and to make it impossible for her to ever even  _think_  about leaving him.  He liked this plan.  A lot.  A satisfied smile spread across his face.

Donna eyed the Doctor with suspicion.  “What are you so chuffed about?” she asked, reaching for a pastry.

The Doctor caught himself and took a gulp of coffee to hide the smile.  Putting down the cup, he bit into a scone, chewed and then replied, “Oh, I was just thinking about what we could do today.”

Donna inwardly cringed at the thought of sitting through another day of lectures.  But she owed it to him, after last night.  So she smiled and asked, “So, what’s the plan?”

“I think,” he began, taking another long sip of coffee, “that it would be absolutely brilliant,” he paused again to pop a bit of scone in his mouth, “if we just headed back to the TARDIS.”

She was genuinely surprised.  “But I thought you had one more day of lectures.”

“Nah,” he replied.  “I’ve had enough for quite a while.  You were right,” he sniffed.  “I  _do_  know most of this stuff.”

“Conceited git,” she smirked, and chucked a bit of pastry at him.

He laughed and gave her a cheeky wink.  Bounding up from the table, he deposited the cup and plate in the sink.  “I’ll go to the main desk and check us out.  Once you’re all packed, we can be on our way.”

After the Doctor left, Donna went back to her room and packed her bags, carefully wrapping the gifts she had purchased, and wheeled her bag into the lounge.  She noticed that he had left his satchel by the door.  She tidied up their breakfast, washing and putting away the dishes.  Taking one more glance around the cabin, she sat on the settee to wait for his return.

Not long after, she and the Doctor were making their way back to where the TARDIS was hidden behind a perception filter in the woods at the edge of the conference centre.  As they approached the ship, he turned to her and asked casually, “Donna?  Do you still have my sonic screwdriver?”

She reached into her pocket and pulled out the devise.  “Here it is,” she replied.  “Sorry,” and handed it to him.

“Not to worry,” he said, taking it from her and depositing it back in his suit coat.  “Just didn’t want to leave it behind.  Who knows  _what_  kind of mischief it could cause!”

Donna laughed along with the Doctor.  As he put the key in the lock and began to open the door, she was struck by a sudden, disturbing thought.  _‘How did he know I had his sonic?’_ Her brow creased.  _‘He doesn’t remember last night.  Or does he?’_ Her heart skipped a beat.  _‘Bloody hell.  He only pretended not to know.  He was patronising me!’_ She took in a deep breath and let it out slowly.  This changed everything, made it that much worse.

“I’m just going to go to my room for a bit,” Donna called out to the Doctor, as she made her way toward the hallway.  “See you in a few.”

He smiled to himself as he danced around the console, setting the coordinates to take them into the Vortex until he could talk with Donna about where she’d like to go next.  “We owe it to her, don’t we, old girl?  She took such good care of me yesterday, and she feels so badly about it.”  He pulled the monitor around to him and his fingers flew across the keyboard.  He was compiling a list of planets that he thought she might find interesting.

Donna walked into her bedroom and closed the door.  She stood in the middle of the room for a long time, trying to make up her mind as to her best course of action.  That the Doctor was fully aware of her failure was demoralizing.  She knew he was trying to spare her feelings, but she was also convinced that, gradually, he would come to resent her for putting him thorough such a shameful display of emotion.  He was a Time Lord, the last of a very proud race.  Eventually, he would hold her responsible for his embarrassment and, as a result, finally decide that he no longer wanted to travel with her.

The idea of going back to her former life as a temp in Chiswick was devastating.  But staying on the TARDIS, waiting for the inevitable, was intolerable.  She couldn’t bear the thought of watching their friendship wither and die.  As painful as it would be, it was probably better for all concerned if she made a clean and immediate break.  Walking over to her wardrobe, she began to pull out her suitcases.

The Doctor pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose as he furiously scribbled notes on the printout at the console.  Without looking up, he called out, “Donna?  How do you feel about spelunking?  We could go see the rainbow caves on Ariadne.”  When he got no answer, he stood up and looked around the control room.  He was surprised to find that she hadn’t returned.  He queried his ship.  “Is she alright?”

The TARDIS sang a soft low melody.

“Still in her room?” he asked, a touch concerned.  He stuffed his glasses into his coat pocket and made his way down the hall to the purple door that the ship had created for his companion.  He stood outside for a few moments, and then gently knocked.  “Donna?  It’s me.”  He cringed.  _‘Of course, it’s you, ya git.  Who else could it be?’_ he told himself.  “May I come in?” he asked. 

He waited a while and then knocked again.  “Donna?”  He was trying to decide whether to just go in without an invitation when he heard a muffled, “Yeah, alright.”

Somewhat alarmed at the tone of her voice, the Doctor cautiously opened the door, and was dismayed at the sight before him.  Donna stood in the middle of her room, back to the door, surrounded by suitcases.  “Donna.  What are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?” she responded tersely.

“Packing.”

“Got it in one.”

“Why?” he asked, his voice hard.

“Why do you think, Time Boy?”  She whirled around and faced him.  “Did you think I was too stupid to notice?”

_‘Bugger,’_ he thought. _‘Bugger, bugger, BUGGER!  She knows.  She must have felt me inside her mind.  I’ve got to fix this.’_ He took a few steps toward her, getting as close as he could, with all the luggage littering the floor between them.  “I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

“I know,” she replied sadly.  “I’d give anything to make it all go away.  But I can’t, and it won’t.  And I think it’s best if I just leave now.”

His hearts clenched in horror.  He scrambled over to her but was thwarted by a hatbox. “Look,” he cried.  “I said I was sorry.  It’s all my fault.  I should have had better control.”

“Oh, don’t be daft!” she exclaimed.  “How on earth is it your fault?   _I’m_  the one who poisoned you.   _I’m_  the one who couldn’t take proper care of you and keep you from doing things you wouldn’t have done normally.”  She turned back to the bureau and began to remove her clothes.

“But  _I_  violated  _you_ ,” he snapped back.

Her shoulders tightened and she slowly moved to face him.  “Violated me?  Is that how you see it?”  Her eyes were filled with sorrow and the beginning of tears.

He stared at her, bewildered at her attitude.  “Of course, it’s a violation.  I took something from you without your consent.  It was careless and thoughtless of me.”

Donna stood silently for a moment.  She had a suspicion that she and the Doctor were talking about very different things.  So she put down the shirts in her hands and made her way through the obstacle course of suitcases.  Standing close, she looked up at him and said, “I think perhaps we should continue this conversation in the lounge.”

Taking his hand, she guided him out of her room and down the hall.  The TARDIS had thoughtfully moved the lounge next to the bedrooms and opened the door, so they did not have far to go.  Once inside, Donna sat the still confused Doctor on the leather settee and sat facing him.  “Now, Doctor,” she began carefully.  “I think you’d better explain this ‘violation’.”

He stared at her, not quite sure what to make of this ‘calm Donna’.  He dropped his eyes and said, “Not sure I want to.”

She smacked him lightly on the arm.  “Not an option, Spaceman.”

Rubbing his arm and trying to hold back a smile, he replied, “Well, will you promise not smack me again?”

“Just start talking.”

He took a deep breath and began.  “Last night.  You had gotten upset about, er, um, some things I had been saying.  I hated seeing you cry and I went to wipe away your tears.”  He looked her in the eye.  “I’m a touch telepath, Donna.”

“I remember.  So?”

"Well,” he went on, “when I put my hands on your face, I, uh, inadvertently brushed the tips of my fingers against your temples.”  He ran his hand through his hair nervously.  “I, um, well...”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, just say it!”

He rubbed his hand over his face.  “I didn’t mean to but, when I touched you, I entered your mind.”  He looked at her, his eyes filled with sorrow. 

Donna stared at him, not exactly sure she understood what he was saying.  “What do you mean, you entered my mind?  Like with the Oods?  I don’t remember feeling anything.”

“No.  In the Oodsphere, you allowed me to open your mind so you could hear what I heard.  This time I just blundered in, directly into your mind.  I saw your thoughts and feelings.”  He reached for her hand.  “I’m sorry.  I’m so sorry.”

Donna pulled her hand away, stood up, and walked away from the settee, angry and confused.  And not a little embarrassed.  “You read my mind?!  How could you do that?  That’s private!  I thought you had more respect for me than that.”

“I know and I do.  You must believe me,” he pleaded with her.  He didn’t follow her but remained seated, giving her space.  “It would never have happened under ordinary circumstances.  But the oldavé toxin affected my inhibitions and my mental shields were not functioning properly.  I feel terrible about it.  I would  _never_  have done anything like that without your permission.”

Donna looked over at him and saw the pain and remorse in his eyes.  She realized that, once again, her actions were responsible for his discomfort.  She went back and sat down again.  “Doctor,” she said.  “There’s no need for you to apologize for anything.  It’s not your fault.  It’s mine.  That’s why I was preparing to leave the TARDIS.  To save you the embarrassment and bother of having to chuck me out.”

The Doctor squinted at her as he tried to make sense of her last statement.  “Why on earth would you think I’d want to chuck you out?”

She stared at him, equally confused.  “I’m the one who gave you the toxin.  Because of it, you have done and said things you didn’t mean and you regret.  I am responsible for this whole bloody mess.  Of course, you’d want to get rid of me as soon as possible!”

Slowly, he began to understand her words and the deeper meaning behind them.  Recalling the insecurities and feelings of unimportance, he wasn’t surprised she’d assume he’d dump her back home without another thought.  He knew he had his work cut out for him, but he was determined to convince this magnificent woman that she was special.

He moved closer to her, until he was within touching distance.  But he made himself hold back for the moment.  He gave her as sincere a smile as he could.  “Donna,” he began.  “I think there’s been a little misunderstanding.  There’s something I didn’t think to tell you about oldavé toxin.  Yes, it inhibits certain enzymes that allow me to stabilize my system.  It also acts a bit like alcohol, in that it lowers one’s inhibitions.  But the one thing it does  _not_  do is cause someone to do anything against their will.”

“What are you saying?  That you  _wanted_  get drunk and act like a fool?”

He chuckled.  “No, I’m saying that, while a little unconventional, most of what I did last night was actually quite fun, and I’ll probably want to revisit them sometime in the future.”  He fingered the lump on the top of his head.  “Well, maybe not the juggling.”

He finally leaned over and took her hand.  “I truly am very sorry looking into your mind without permission, and I promise it will never,  _ever_  happen again.  But you have to understand something.  I am  ** _not_**  sorry that I learned what I did.”

“That’s just bloody brilliant!’ Donna exclaimed, trying to pull her hand away.  “Now you know what an utter failure I am.  Are you happy now?  Does it make it easier for you?  You can leave me back in Chiswick with a clear conscience and find yourself a more suitable companion.” She stood up quickly and stated for the door.  “I’ll just finish up the packing you interrupted.”

The Doctor surged to his feet and blocked her exit.  His eyes flashed fire and he roared, “Rassilon’s left  _testicle_ , woman!!  Will you please just give it a rest!  I’m trying to tell you that I fancy you and think you bloody well fancy me too!!  Now.  Will you please sit the hell down and let me finish?!”

Donna was shocked.  She had seen the Time Lord angry before, seen his fury unleashed on the Racnoss.  She  _never_  expected to have it directed at her!  And his uncharacteristic use of profanity so stunned her that the latter part of his tirade didn’t even register with her.  She meekly followed him back to the settee and sat down.

The Doctor saw Donna’s look of alarm and immediately regretted his outburst.  She didn’t resist when he grasped her hands and began rubbing the backs with his thumbs.  “I’m sorry I yelled at you,” he began.  “It’s just, sometimes, you are the most maddening woman I have ever met.  I know you have been treated badly in the past by the people who supposedly love you.  I don’t want to be another one of them.”

The gentle stroking of her hands, the softness of his voice, and the look of tenderness in his eyes helped to finally calm the turmoil in her mind.  She stared at him for a few moments and then just whispered, “Doctor?”

He smiled his patented lopsided smile and repeated what he had said to her the night before.  “Hello, love.”

Donna’s feelings of inadequacy were too ingrained in her.  She wouldn’t allow herself to believe what she hoped he was saying.  “But Doctor,” she stated flatly.  “We’re mates.”

The Doctor shook his head.  “Ah, yes.  The “mates” thing.  About that.”  He grinned a sly smile.  “I was serious about that.  Adamant, in fact.  For all of about a day and half.  Then I got to know you.  To learn about the real you.  In Pompeii.  At the Oodsphere.”  He squeezed her hands and sighed.  “Donna Noble, you are the most amazing, brilliant, infuriating, frustrating, caring, beautiful woman I have ever known.  You challenge me; you comfort me; you support me.  I’d have to be the daftest thing in the universe to let you get away.”   He sniffed.  “And we all know  _that_  isn’t the case!”

Donna retrieved one of her hands and gave him a right smack on the arm, causing him to grin widely at her.  “So let me get this straight?  You  _don’t_  want to be mates?  You never did?  Then why all the ‘oh, we’re so not a couple’ business?”

He raised his eyebrows.  “Well, you had made it abundantly clear what you thought of this ‘skinny streak of nothing’.”  (She grimaced at the phrase.)  “I was just respecting your wishes.  It was more important to me to have your friendship.  I haven’t had a best friend since, well, since Koshei.  I never realized how much I missed that.  Until I met you.  So, I just decided it was better to have some of you, than none at all.”

She put her hand on his arm.  “You know you’re going to have to tell me about him someday.”

He covered her hand with his.  “I will.  Someday.”

Donna sat up and faced the Doctor squarely.  “Now, I just want to get a few things sorted.”  He rolled his eyes but didn’t say anything.  “You remember everything that happened last night?”

“Yes,” he answered.

“And the toxin doesn’t make you do anything you didn’t already want to do?”

He responded warily, “Yes.”

“Even...?” she looked at him expectantly, her eyebrows raised.

He peered at her intently.  She smiled shyly and dropped her eyes.  Suddenly, he realized what she was referring to, and he gazed at her with longing.  “Ah,” he said with a soft sigh.  “You mean this,” and he leaned in toward her.  His lips brushed against hers lightly, waiting, hoping, that her reaction would be different from the night before.

This time, rather than pulling back, she increased the pressure and deepened the kiss slightly with a sigh.  He drew her into a tight embrace as she wove her fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck.  They stayed that was for a long while, exchanging soft, shy kisses, which became longer and more fervent.  Finally, they sat back against the soft leather of the settee, slightly out of breath, and content to simply be together.

Donna curled up next to the Doctor, her head against his chest, listening to the dual beats of his hearts.  He held her firmly against him with an arm around the waist, gently stroking her hair with his other hand.  He smiled and said, “To answer your original question.  Yeah.  I really did mean to do that.  Have wanted to for a long time.  Since Agatha’s, to be precise.”

She raised her head slightly.  “Really?  So that’s what you meant.”

“Yep,” he answered popping the ‘p’.  “Looks like you’re going to have to find a new way of shocking me the next time I need to detox.  I intend to become far too familiar with this process.”  He buried his face in her hair.

“Do you now?” she asked.

“Oh,  _yes_!” he replied enthusiastically.

She snuggled closer to him.  “At least something good will come of this whole experience.  I’ll finally find out the secret of the universe.”

“And what might that be?”

She chuckled.  “Boxers or briefs!”

The Doctor threw his head back and laughed heartily.  “You little minx!” he exclaimed.  “You will definitely find that out, if  _I_  have anything to say about it.  And much, much more.  That is a promise.”  He kissed her head and hugged her.

They sat that way, close and comfortable, until the silence was broken by the distinct sound of Donna’s stomach  
rumbling.  “Sorry,” she said, trying to sit up.  “I didn’t eat much at breakfast.  Let me up and I’ll go make us some lunch.”

He untangled himself from their embrace and firmly held her in place on the settee.  “I am perfectly capable of putting together some sandwiches and tea.  You just relax and let me take care of  _you_ , for a change.  You know, maybe I’ll have the TARDIS find the game room.  I’d really like to work on that puzzle again.”   He kissed her quickly but passionately.  “But later.  Much later.”  As he left, Donna heard him singing softly to himself.   ** _This thing called love, I just can’t handle it.  This thing called love….._**  drifted down the hall.

Donna curled up on the settee, marvelling at events of the last few days.  The future was looking brighter than she had ever imagined it could.  She had the love of a Time Lord.  And things will only become that much more interesting.  She smiled coyly, thinking of the bottle of Aprixian brandy that sat so carefully stowed in her suitcase.

 


End file.
